Trail of Crumbs

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I have a mustache.

Acceptance now, you guys.

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I’ve mostly come to terms with this. I’ve had it for the better part of twenty years, and like my weird toe (which we will not be discussing) or my amazing European nose, it is very much a part of me.

But every now and then, I get the crazy idea that maybe I should get rid of it, which is what we are sometimes tempted to do to the things that put the “unconventional” in our “unconventionally beautiful.”

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I am at it again. Spending way too much time replying to spammy requests for guests posts or ads. Apparently I haven’t made it clear enough here or here.

 

This time, I’ve started including photos and graphics in my replies, which I think is a nice touch. It really tells these people who haven’t bothered to read a single word on my site that I care. Because anyone can tell them to fuck off. But me? I take that extra step to confuse them.

While I was answering these emails, my husband’s reaction was as follows:

“Baby … what?”

“I don’t know if this is the best way to spend an afternoon.”

“Shouldn’t you be working on your book?”

“Is that my shirt?”

And the answer to all of these questions is a resounding “MAYBE.”

Here’s the third installment of this series. Earlier blog posts can be found here and here.

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I got an email the other day from someone who was about to have brain surgery. This, in and of itself, isn’t anything new – since writing about my own surgery, I get a couple of emails a week from people who are in similar (or, as is often the case, far scarier) situations. But this last email I received was a little different – the author asked me just one simple question.

Did I have any practical advice for things she should do before her surgery?

I realized that while I had written rather extensively about the emotions that surround brain surgery, and I’d discussed a few of the things I learned from it, I hadn’t really discussed what I did beforehand to prepare for the experience.

And so, since I haven’t been traveling all that much of late, and there is little to report on that front, I thought I’d dedicate a blog post to her question. I want to make it clear – this is just stuff that I felt the need to do. When I’m stressed, when I feel like my life is a little out of control, I get very organized.

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After the delightful success of my email conversations with Ted (spoiler: we’re now totally besties, and talking about gelato), and all the fun I had last time I replied to PR pitches and the like, I decided to respond to a few more emails that I probably shouldn’t have.

I’m starting to think I have too much time on my hands.

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These are actual emails (or portions thereof) that I have received, with my replies listed beneath them (yes, these were emails I really sent.) No one has written back, except for the last guy, and I’m guessing he wishes he hadn’t.

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There has been a lot of talk lately about Rand’s facial hair. And not just by me. Other folks have been blogging about it, too.

He started growing it out after Thanksgiving, just to see what it would look like. And it looked pretty much the same as it always did – a bit shaggier perhaps, but that was it. But then, after a few months, the whole thing started to curl.

I, personally, thought this was hilarious. Rand was not as much of a fan. I remained fascinated at how much his look changed. Some days he resembled an old-timey-prospector …

There’s a joke here … something about how he could pan my river anytime …

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If you live the northwest, you have to convince yourself of a lot of things.

Rand and I in downtown Seattle, last night.

 

Like that you don’t need sunshine, or Vitamin D. That it’s perfectly reasonable to live in a city where it rains nine and half months out of the year.

You have to tell yourself that it’s completely normal to spend hours in traffic just to go a few miles. That paying rent which far exceeds what the rest of your non-northwestern friends pay in mortgage is totally reasonable.

You have to tell yourself these things, otherwise you might leave.

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Fun fact: I tried killing it with fire, which just resulted in a lovely golden brown crust.

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Someone recently told me that I need to start “lifestyle blogging” instead of just travel blogging, which sort of confused me, because my everyday life isn’t necessarily something you’d want to emulate. Most days, I’m locked in a battle with myself about whether several cookies and a glass of milk are as nutritionally viable as oatmeal.

That fight often turns ugly. The Pioneer Woman does not have such quarrels with herself, I’m sure. I bet she makes really healthy oatmeal that tastes like a cookie. I bet her children have zero cavities.

I bet she never sniffs a shirt to see if she can wear it again.

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Rand is growing out his beard.

He can barely keep it clean on his own.

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I know, I know. This is supposed to be a travel blog, right? And for the most part, my husband’s facial hair plays very little role in our travel, much less yours.

Goodness, what if it did, though. That would be one crazy-ass superpower, would it not?

Me: Honey, we’re going to miss our flight!

Rand: What should I do?

Me: SHAVE, YOU IDIOT. SHAVE LIKE YOU’VE NEVER SHAVED BEFORE.

End scene. 

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